


The Orana Diaries

by LiotusWrites



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiotusWrites/pseuds/LiotusWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you go to kirkwall, I can help you." Those were the words that gave Orana, the slave girl, a new lease on life. This is a collection of short 'drabbles' centering around the new life and encounters of Orana with Kirkwall and its occupants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orana meets the happy couple.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been moved from my fanfiction account on to here but I'll be updating both for now. Tags will be updated as we go along, there won't be much to breach the T rating so never fear. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Are you my master now?" she said.

"No!" Exclaimed the elf.

"If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you..."

Those were the words that gave her a new lease on life that fateful day. And here she was now in the messere's estate, cold, wet, dirty and barefoot.

_'Oh dear, I'm ruining the floor'_ , she thought.

Her eyes widened at the sheer size and extravagance of the generous man's dwelling, she had to turn a full circle to take it all in. The red's and the bronze of the walls and the simple fur carpets were beaconing for one to rub their cheeks on it. Her former master, the Magister lady, had a bigger home then this one.

But it had not felt as warm and welcoming. Had not felt as safe.

But a voice disrupted her thoughts. "Um, I don't mean to be a bother but, who are you?" Said an oddly cheery voice.

She gasped, and turned around to see two dwarves looking on curiously, one had a brown beard and the other was hiding and peeking from behind his shoulder, blue eyes wide with curiosity. Oh? Were they other slaves like her?

"I-I was sent here by my new Master! I'm to be his new slave" she said.

The dwarf reeled back in disbelief "W-what? Slave? Uh, I think you may have gotten the wrong...house."

Orana's heart raced, she couldn't possible have gotten the wrong house! Everyone she had asked pointed to this place...Or maybe she  _was_  in the wrong house, she had gotten things wrong before. "This has to be the right house! I asked around and everyone said this was the place, please don't caste me out! I can cook, I can clean!"

He raised his hands, "Alright, alright miss, calm down." He looked the girl in the eye and said, "No ones getting thrown out of here, its raining pretty badly outside anyways."

The dwarf led her to the fireplace and pulled out a chair, placing it close to the fires warmth. "Take a seat dear, its freezing outside and you best not be catching any cold on my watch."

Orana eyed the chair for a moment, her thought caste over to the kitchen, laundry and wet floor that no doubt need tending to. The Master did not keep her to be sitting around complacent unless she wished to end up like her...papa.

She backed away, "I should get started on my masters dinner, and tidy up, he may be home soon and-"

"That boy will learn to clean up after himself without much trouble." said a woman's firm voice from the atop the great staircase. As if on cue a Mabari dog trotted in upon hearing the lady, the little blonde dwarf with blue eyes quickly occupied himself with the hound.

Orana turned to face the woman. She was of an older age with short cropped grey hair that held the face of soft brilliant blue eyes and delicate age lines. She was wearing a fine comfortable looking gown that echoed the colour scheme of the house, nothing overly decorated, but no doubt tailored from expensive fabrics.

"Good evening My Lady." the little elf bowed.

The lady of the house descended the stairs and studied her, she said, "Now if I heard correctly, my son sent you here, as a  _slave_?"

Orana hesitated for a moment. There was a certain aggressive tone in her voice that scarred her when the lady said 'slave'. But from what she understood, she was in fact sent as a slave "Yes my lady," her eyes lowered.

She repeated, "My  _son_ , Hawke, hired and sent you here for slave work...correct?"

Orana swallowed her anxiety and slowly nodded. That's what happened back at the cave right?

"Don't fret young girl, sit down and warm yourself, you're trembling."

Orana immediately sat down and kept her eyes on the flickering flames amongst the hearth. The Lady is a little bit scary. Behind her the dwarf and the lady conversed, "We ought to wait until the man himself gets home, I'm sure this is a misunderstanding."

"This had better be an misunderstanding Bodahn, otherwise Hawke is going to be in a world of trouble." and with that she left them alone.

A coat stand suddenly topple to the floor, "Sandal no, leave the mabari alone!" The dwarf scampered off after the tumbling pair as they disappeared. 

And once again, Orana was alone. What was all the fuss about? She was just a normal slave - or maybe it was the Lady who had a final say on who stays in the house. She sighed and brushed the loose dirt off her sleeves, oh well, all she had to do was obey.

Her cold toes and fingers slowly thawed, and her memories took her back to the events earlier that evening. Papa...I'm sorry I couldn't do anything, but you don't have to worry about me any more, she thought. Orana's heart clenched and felt the familiar prick of tears in her eyes. She shook her head, trying to banish the bad thoughts plaguing her. Her new duty was to fix the house, and the Master wont regret hiring her.

Orana quickly stood up and dragged the chair back to its place, it seemed to be for a writing table that was swamped with letters and half finished responses. So his name is Hawke, Garrett Hawke. Then the lady must be his mother, the connection was suddenly clear. The Sir and Madam had the same magnificent eye colour.

A priceless quill sat on a blank scroll, its spilled ink long since dried. She placed it back in its holder and disposed of the stained scroll, her master it seemed, was very popular. After sorting the desk out Orana began hunting around for a broom. She walked into the library and found nothing, walked up the stairs and found nothing. Perhaps in the kitchen? It didn't take long to find the warm clean room, and a pot already on the stove and sizzling away with some sort of stew. She smiled as two dwarves chasing after the family pet with a shoe in its mouth raced past the door. And double checking the stew was not burning, and adding a pinch of salt and a little sage to it, she finally spotted the broom and cleaning implements behind the pantry.

Time to get started.

A few hours later and it was midnight by the time Orana finished the cooking, sweeping and washing. During that time the dwarf introduced himself as Bodahn, and his special son as Sandal, both had been trying to convince her to take it easy until the Hawke returned. But that was not her style, as far as Orana was concerned she still needed to dust and wash the floor. With a bandanna neatly wrapped around her head, she grabbed the feather duster and made her way to the foyer.

She suddenly paused, shocked to see someone already there. He paced back and forth anxiously, leaving a trail of water droplets and footprints wherever he moved. It's a wonder he didn't trip over.

How did the other elf get in the house? Orana was certain the door was locked, she had made sure of it herself.

"H-hello sir, can I help you?"

He jolted out of whatever reverie he was buried in, startled, "Oh! No, no, I'm just waiting..." a deep frown returned to his brow and continued pacing.

Both paused, taking a moment to recognise the other, "I remember you! You were with my new Master, have you seen him? It is quite late and his Mother worries. I think she's angry." The fellow elf had been in the company of her new Master when they first met. It was hard to forget the image of a glowing elf wielding a giant sword, and a mage with the body of a warrior and casting armageddon itself.

The corner of his lip twitched downwards, and he scowled "He is not your 'Master' let's make that clear. And no I, uh...left without him. I thought he would have returned by now..."

Something about him made her feel uneasy, or maybe it was the sheer frustration that he radiated. "Oh I see, well I best be getting back to my duties. I guess you can...wait here." Orana had a sneaky suspicion that the elf was staying in the foyer, regardless of whether he was wanted or not.

"Uh, as you were" He said warily.

Orana quickly returned to dusting, trying to shake off the worry of where Master Hawke could be – it's just so late. And the visitor wasn't making it easy either.

Not a few minutes later, the elf, whose name eludes her spoke again, "Shouldn't you already be resting?" that same angry undertone was there.

She flinched, "not unless I am dismissed by my Mast- by Mr Hawke" Orana fidgeted under his steely stare. It was not pleasant.

He spat, "you can sleep whenever you please, Hawke is not always a vigilant type. It's a miracle that he remembers to feed the Mabari."

He has trouble remembering to feed the dog? The size of the animal said the exact opposite. Maybe he doesn't understand the Mast- erhm, Sir, very well.

"But the dog  _is_  very big and strong..."

The elf shot her an odd look, his voice lowered an octave and he looked ashamed, "Oh, I guess it is – isn't it..." those green eyes trailed off to a point long past wherever she was, deep in thought. Orana couldn't help but wonder, what he was thinking about.

A strong concern for the Mabari or Master Hawke? The warrior elf was a strange fellow indeed.

The sombre atmosphere disappeared when the door swang open, a tall well built young man shuffled in, wet and shivering in his fine armour. He tossed the great magic staff carelessly and slammed the door closed. Hawke was completely oblivious to his new company as he muttered about the wet fur lining his armour smelling funny.

"It's as if the Maker left the tap running just to get on my everyone's nerves!" He shook his head in the manner of a wet dog, not realising the water flew all over the floor as well Orana and the visitor. Hawke sighed deeply and ran a gloved hand through his slick spiky locks. He paused.

"Fenris...?"

Orana opened her mouth to speak, but quickly stopped herself, it's better not to interrupt the Master.

"I was – uh..." The elf named Fenris threw his eyes back and forth between Hawke and her, unsure whether or not to continue.

"Oh!" The Master gave a big sigh of relief when he spotted Orana smiling, she gave a brief bow as he continued. It was already feeling a little warmer in the room.

"I am so sorry I didn't see you there! Look, about before, I should've given you a more accurate address. I spent most of the night running up and down looking for you, good Maker I thought you got lost, or worse! It won't happen again, I swear it." He said, placing a hand dramatically on his heart.

"As long as you are well sir." The longer she stood there, the more she felt she should leave. The look the other elf was giving her Master was a far cry to the frustration and urgency he had before, it was troubling. He probably had something really important to tell him.

"Wait, its midnight why are you still up cleaning? Go to bed you look exhausted." he tapped his foot like a mother scolding her children. Or rather, his own mother.

"Actually Mast- sir, it's nearly dawn."

"What!?"

She said, "Shall I take my leave sir?"

"Uh?" Hawke cocked his head.

Fenris added, "Bed, Hawke, to the bed."

"Oh, of course, go go!"

With a nod she rushed off, and breathed out in relief. Well, that was odd. She thought Hawke was a rather nice fellow, except that both him and Fenris had dirtied the floor. A mental note was made to fix that in the morning before he woke up. Just as Orana was about to rest – something occurred to her.

By the Maker, she forgot the DUSTER! Just lying there and out of place! There was no way she was going to leave it there, and like a mouse she tip toed back to the waiting room.

She heard voices, Hawke and Fenris were still talking. She peaked from behind the wall cautiously. 'Oh my!' Her face instantly flushed red. They were in very close proximity.

"I...don't think I even know what that is." said Fenris, tortured eyes gazing into Hawke's. A myriad of emotions were banished with a blink of an eye, and Fenris quickly left with the soft click of the closing door behind him.

Hawke stood there for a very long moment, unmoving, silent and still.

"Um...Master, I mean, Hawke."

"You're still up?" His voice was low and disconnected, as if not caring who heard him.

He was sad, "A-Are you alright?"

"We should rest."

She took the chance to grab the duster she left behind, "Just one other thing...where exactly do I sleep? Nobody really said anything."

Hawke's palm slapped his face, he really didn't think this whole, hiring help, through.

"Was there a mosquito on your face sir? I'll make sure to take care of any infestation tomorrow."


	2. Orana's little problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Won't really follow the canon timeline in certain instances but I'll make sure nothing contradicts. Enjoy!

Orana swallowed, trying to sooth her dry throat. She had been standing there by the kitchen table for nearly twenty minutes. It was almost lunch time and there wasn't any food simmering away on the fire, and surprisingly that was now the least of her worries.

Something else had her frozen in sheer terror.

This was it, it had to be it. Serah Hawke would think her a fool, useless, incompetent.

It had already been three days under the wealthy mage's service and Orana was gut wrenched that such a simple item would be her undoing. She was raised, and lived to serve. She was a master at removing any type of stain from fabric and can polish a sword to near perfection. Her record stood at one hour including peeling and cooking time when it came to creating a banquet for five large families. She was the lean, mean, cleaning machine and nothing was either too difficult to clean, nor too difficult to bake.

Perhaps there was a time where she was jealous of how her previous master would praise her fathers soup, yet make a face at her pasta bake. But even still, it had been the best day of her life, she still remembered the technique her papa used to stop the vegetable from getting too soggy.

To any master, she was the best. But now...

Her hands trembled sightly as she angled the long piece of paper to the side, holding it under the sunlight by the window. No matter how hard she willed it, she felt that it was forever out of her grasp. She quivered, telling Hawke would be humiliating, and who knows how he would react. Maybe this would be the final straw and he would kick her out.

No, I'll do it, she thought. And grabbing her allowance for the groceries, she headed out the door.  
  


~~~  
  


Hawke woke with a start; his body aching and head spinning, he felt like utter crap. Languidly he tossed the soft silky sheets off of him and shuffled out the grand bed. A large open bowl of cool water, fine towels, a razor sharp blade and various face washing vials were neatly set out for him. His stark blue eyes widened, a little taken aback.

Leandra couldn't have possibly set this out for him, his mother had long since gone past coddling and tending to his need since hair started growing in fascinating places. If anything, he was the one that made sure his mother had enough sleep, ate a decent meal, attended social events, kept busy with friends, anything to keep her distracted from the loss they suffered to get where they were.

Hawke grabbed a towel and dipped it into the bowl before bringing it up to wash his face, he suddenly paused – that left only one other person.

And he smiled.

After giving himself a good wash, and his magnificent beard a nice trim around the rough edges, he dressed in his daily robe and walked downstairs into the kitchen. It was fairly quiet for an early afternoon at the Hawke estate, literally everybody except for Malcolm the Mabari, was out. Hawke still felt the pain in his head after Aveline's late night job, he reminded himself to never leave his flank exposed to an assassin. Never underestimate a fat assassin.

Garrett headed for the kitchen pantry and slowly munched his way through a few pieces of fruit and bread. Orana was probably still shopping since the shelves were rather barren. Hawke wondered: Did I add pears to the list? I feel like a pear.

He shrugged and made his way to his writing desk. Soon enough he buried his head in the family accounts and ever growing pile of requests for aid, supplies or simply good old muscle. Normally he would be face deep in women and snoozing in bed at this hour, but for Hawke, it was as if that treacherous old life had belonged to a completely different era.

But after five minutes, Hawke was beginning to contemplate a permanent holiday. Who knew wealth and fame would make him even busier. Not that he minded the new found responsibility.

The door finally burst open and Orana wobbled in with arms full of brown bags.

"Good afternoon M-Master," she swayed to the side, Hawke quickly rushed to her aid. They placed the bags down in the kitchen, and it was then that he noticed something was off.

"Orana, these bags are full of...walnuts."

The maid paused, eyes downcast and wringing her wrists. "A-Are you sure, Messere?" Hawke looked back at the bags. He knew exactly what he put on the shopping list but the fearful voice of his maid, for some reason, was inflicting doubt. Although not for too long.

"Y-Yes, I'm sure I didn't put three bag fulls of walnuts o-"

"I'm so sorry Serah! I made a mistake I-I-I-" she burst out and immediately bowed again and again.

Hawke raised his hands in defence, completely nervous. "Woah, calm down please, take a breath and explain."

Orana stilled and looked to her left, deep in thought. And with trembling hands she took the list out of her dress pocket and opened it. "I took a guess. The little circles in the inscription...they reminded me of walnuts. I gave the list to the dried fruit merchant and he insisted that is what you wrote."

Hawkes face fell.

"He said I should buy out the entire stall..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"...He left the market place rather quickly after that." The mage made a low groaning sound, similar to that of the time when Anders treated him for a kick in the groin.

"So I'm assuming...you can't read. At all."

Orana shook her head, "n-no sir, I cannot."

Hawke closed his eyes, and slowly took a long deep breath. "Well, there's only one solution for this problem."  
  


~~~  
  


Aveline passed the grand threshold, taking a few moments to breath in the warm air of Hawke's new estate. She was impressed to say the least, and oddly proud of the young mage. The last she had heard of him was that he was still trying to finalise the deeds from the previous stubborn landholder, but his hard work was finally paying off. It was good to see Hawke finally in control of his life, and acting like a man worth the envy.

We all have come so far, she mused. It felt like it was just yesterday when she was still at Ostagar, and when Wesley, and Hawke's siblings were still with them. May the maker bless their resting souls.

Aveline headed straight for the library, knowing full well Hawke would be buried in his finance and good deeds. At least he was finally realising being a flirty bad boy won't put food on the table. She knocked on the wood of the door frame, her lips curling in a soft smile as Hawke lite up at the sight of her.

"Oh? Aveline." He said before quickly burying his head in his work, like she had not even been there to begin with.

Odd. "I just stopped by to see how you were doing."

A troubled look crossed his eyes, but he smiled regardless. "Another job is it? Alright, give me moment to..." It was then that Aveline noticed the ink smudges on Hawke's hands, he then absently scratched his beard oblivious to the further spreading of the ink on his cheeks.

"What in Makers name are you doing Hawke?" she walked over to the table beside him. She gaped.

Hawke looked at her rather sheepishly, noting her expression that said 'So this is what you're doing in your spare time?'

"Don't give me that look Aveline, I think this sack of apples is drawn rather magnificently."

"It had better be, it looks like you spent hours trying to get the shade right rather than – oh I don't know – sorting the pile of requests on your desk!"

Hawke raised his hands, "I know I'll get to it."

"Oh Garrett, why are you spending your time drawing," she leaned in, "fruits?"

The mage hunched over the paper, letting the quill glide over the fine lines of his artwork. "Its the grocery list for Orana." Aveline gave him a questioning look. It was often better to let Hawke speak rather than interrogate him.

"Be honest with me now, does that look like a potato or a pumpkin? It's essential you can tell the difference."

Never mind, thought Aveline.


	3. Coin for thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a little sad from here.

**  
**

Orana starred at the coin purse, head gently resting atop her folded arms on the dining table. She wasn't really sure how long she had been eyeing it, but the shock of receiving her first payment was still fresh in her mind.

It was hers, all hers, and hers alone.

In all honesty it was difficult to believe Messere Hawke's sweet words of freedom and equality when slavery was all she had ever know. When she was still serving the Magister lady she was of course fortunate enough to be able to share a room with her papa at the time. They had very few belongings between them; mostly the bare minimum like clothes, toiletries and various salvaged trinkets that they find during the rare holiday or two.

But her papa made that small cramped room feel like a whole wonderful world.  


~~~  


When she was still a little girl her father had fashioned a whole set of dolls out of old clothes for her. He would always go along with the little fantasies and adventures she would conjure up for the dollies, and sometimes, when when it was time so sleep, he would tell his own stories using those dolls. All those adventures were something she would never forget.

Other times they would paint the walls behind the cupboards at night as her papa taught her about the beautiful Andraste, the terrible Blight, and the heroic Grey wardens. Those had always been her favourite, more than the tevinter folklore the other serving elf children seemed to enjoy.

At one point her father did try to teach her how to read, and Orana had gotten rather proficient in such a short time. Reciting the alphabet backwards and forwards in a mere week as well as being able to spell simple words with ease.

But of course that promptly ended when another slave tattled to the the Magister about her papa stealing books.

He didn't come back to their room for two days, and when he did, he said that naughty slaves must be punished for stealing. Otherwise there would be nothing left in the house. Orana was thoroughly frightened from even touching anything for the days after.

It was perfectly logical.

Soon enough the years went by, and when Orana grew up - everything changed.

She was moved to a larger room which housed even more slaves - and despite the sense of belonging amongst her kin, it felt much too cramped.

But it was there that she was made well aware of her place in the house. She was there to serve, and nothing more; anybody caught wondering about at night except the guards, were punished. Anybody caught taking more food than rationed, were disciplined. And worst of all, anybody who disobeys orders won't be returning to their rooms. Orana was proud to boast that she was never once punished, not like the other disobedient, naughty slaves. And for that the Magister lady really liked Orana the most. Even allowed her to work with her papa on the occasion they saw each other.

She was once gifted half a loaf of fruit bread for her obedience - all to herself! That had been a momentous day. Orana cut each slice in half and shared it with the others with a dollop of butter, only ever indulging in the slice of fruity heaven when it was a special occasion amongst the group.

But the dress changed everything.

“Elf girl!” The magister had called.

Orana had quickly fluttered to her side, “Yes Master? How may I serve you?”

“Here. You've been very good and this dress just doesn't please me any more. Have it.” She tossed the dress her way and Orana held onto it for dear life.

She couldn't believe her fortune. A garment from the Master herself. The ultimate token of thanks.

From then on Orana wore the dress everyday once the moth eaten patches were sewn up. The Magister lady even complemented her 'sickly pale beauty' when it was her turn to scrub the chamber floors. It had been a very good day for her. But little did she realise her fellow slaves stewed in their jealousy as she strut about in the dress and smelling of fruit cake.

And like all good things in their lives, it was always short lived.

It had been a long rainy day and the Magister was away on a holiday, leaving the slaves to themselves with the guards of the house.

“It is so cold outside! Do you think we could light up the fireplace for a little while. I'm sure I can convince the guard to let us do it.” said Orana as she came back to their room.

Two of her most trusted friends eyed her nervously as she went about.

“Orana,” one of them squeaked.

“What is it?” she asked.

They pointed to the corner of the room. None of the other elves seemed to be paying attention as they went about their leisure.

That dress she loved so much was torn to pieces and bread crumbs dusted the floor leading to the crazy family cat no one dared to discipline. What was strange was that the feline never really wandered to this part of the mansion on it's own unless it was coaxed. Orana struggled not to cry.

And it got even worse.

It had been a long day of everyone cleaning up after the Magisters crazy parties, and everyone was exhausted and looking forward to a good few hours of sleep. The dark room suddenly came alight as the elves comfortably slumbered through midnight. There was a lot of yelling and screaming. Guards filled the room tossing everyone out of their beads, searching, hitting whoever tried to fight back. It was terrifying as everyone scattered like frightened chickens locked in.

A scream cut through the panic. “One of you dare to take what belongs to me! You filthy knife ears cannot even be grateful for everything I have given you. And you have the gall to do this to me?”

It was the Magister Hadriana who screamed in rage with a hint of an intoxicated slur.

Orana huddled in the corner with the others, frightened until the Magister suddenly stopped. The smell of alcohol filling the room.

“Whoever tells me who took my ring, will be able to serve under the command of Danarius, who is looking for some pupils. Who would like the privilege?” There was something behind her tone Orana didn't trust. She stayed silent.

But one of the elves suddenly stepped out and - to the elf slaves horror - pointed right to her.

“Orana?! My dear sweet little Orana? How dare you!”

Orana couldn't believe what she was hearing and immediately shook her head. “W-What I never - I wouldn't do anything like that to you my Master. I have done nothing but serve you and accept your gracious gifts!” Her eyes watered, “Your approval is all I live for, I wouldn't accept any amount of gold in the world to betray your trust! Believe me! I'm a lowly slave!”

But the elf who tattled got angry, “you lie Orana, you hid it in your bed. Tell the truth!”

“I hide nothing! I swear!”

“Guard, check the pillows. Check everything!”

The guards did just that. Pushing about and tearing the pieces apart and searching until the distinct sound of metal hit the cold stone floor. It had been in Orana's bed.

It didn't make sense. And it terrified her to the core.

The Magister purred, “Well, well, aren't you the little li-”

Orana threw herself on her knees, forehead touching the floor, absolutely frightened by those sadistic eyes. She was a good girl. She was a good girl. “Please! I have been working the cellars for the past two nights, Master. The two slaves downstairs, Leaf and Daina and even the guard can confirm I have been there everyday all day. I couldn't possibly have had the time to steal from you.”

And as if Andraste had a hand in this, that very guard she spoke of took pity. Why? Orana wouldn't know. The guards cared about the slaves just as much as Hadriana did. They never spoke out when she would dish out her cold treatment on them, nor would they try to stop her when she would nearly beat one half to death.

But not this time. Had his helmet not obscured his face, she would have sought him out to thank him properly after.

“This is true, Master Hadriana. I only ever let those elves wonder back when everyone is in their beds for the evening.”

Hadriana didn't look happy, she scowled and took the ring. But Orana was forever grateful to that mysterious guard.

“However, I can't account for the accuser...” he murmured. And that was enough for the raging woman. She seized the other elf by the ears and dragged her right out of the room, the poor elf's cries echoing down the hallway as they disappeared. Leaving everyone shocked at the whole ordeal.

That elf never returned. And nobody really spoke to each other after that. That day seemed to have changed everyone as it soon became a regular occurrence.  


~~~  


Orana sat up again and took the coin purse in her hands. It was brand new and fashioned out of leather dyed a smooth creamy beige, the edges were embroidered with tiny blue birds and red flowers similar to the ones growing outside in the garden of the Hawke estate. As beautiful as the spring that bore them.

She never owned something this pretty and outright _new._

In her first days, Messere Hawke and the Lady Leandra had argued - loudly - for some time on exactly how much she would be paid, when she would be paid, holiday rates and time off. There was even talk of her retirement fund and the percentage paid to it every month. It all blew over Orana's head as she sat there with them the previous week, dumbfounded.

They soon came to an agreement; she would be paid one sovereign and twenty silver every two weeks for work at early morning to early evening, there would an additional twenty silver for over time if needed. Orana would have the holidays off, or if she is needed she would be paid one sovereign for a days work on the spot. As for her retirement, Hawke would make a contribution to the bank at the end of every month and be made readily available when the time came to say goodbye. Hawke had argued for a higher wage, but receiving coin was more than enough for the little elf maid.

Since Orana was practically on her own, Leandra would be responsible in finding an appropriate suitor for Orana should she wish it, though Hawke didn't exactly like that idea. The Lady Leandra was a little over bearing at times, after all. And since all of this was Hawke's idea - as the Lady pointed out - he would be responsible in refurbishing Orana's room out of his own pocket.

Regardless, the room was larger than Orana knew what to even do in it. Sometimes she would just dance around randomly in it when no one was home, the open space so liberating.

In the end, as the Messere and Lady fought, it took them some time to realise Orana was sitting there silently, crying.

Orana stood up, cradling the coin purse in her hand and ever so tenderly putting it in her pocket before rushing to the kitchen. In all her highs and lows in her life, this was the first time she ever felt truly free in her duty to serve.

Perhaps there really was an Andraste looking down on her all along. Just as her Papa said she would.

 

 


End file.
